Running
by Crawling-through-ashes
Summary: For Bart Allen, running comes easier than breathing. But the question remains: how long can he keep running?


_Do you remember when we learned how to fly?_  
_ We'd play make-believe; we were young and had time on our side._

* * *

Bart Allen leaned against the wall, concealed by shadow where the shafts of silvery moonlight filtering in from the window failed to touch.

He ran one hand through his scalp, fisting a handful of hair and tugging forcefully. The shock of pain that ran through him was a futile attempt to occupy his conscious mind. Still, it felt good. Pain was normal, pain meant routine, and routine meant moving forward.  
A sob grew and died in his throat as he slowly began to run his other hand along the wall, searching for answers in the steady fortress of his best friend's room.

"I thought I'd find you here." The voice was soothing, rich, and dripping with affection.

"Yeah," he barked a laugh, "well you always seem to know where to find me, her-man-oh."

Bart didn't tear his eyes from the wall. He was too afraid to look back at Jaime, too afraid to witness the raw emotion undoubtedly etched upon the latter's face. Still, he didn't object when a pair of sturdy, tanned arms encircled his waist, holding as much as they were supporting.

"So you heard, then?"

Bart didn't reply. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of Jaime's neck, leaving the older boy to trace soothing circles along his back.

"They weren't sure how you were going to take it."

Bart's fear ebbed away, replaced by a wave of anger. He pushed against Jaime's chest, breaking the embrace.

"Well how was I supposed to take it?" he demanded.

Jaime recoiled slightly at the inflection of anger in the younger teen's voice, but he wrapped his arms around his torso again, regardless of how Bart squirmed.

"Calm down, _ese_. You know it's for-"

"Please," Bart begged, digging the heel of his hand into his eyes. "Can we talk about it later?"

The pitying glance Jaime gave Bart sparked even more annoyance in him. He hated it when people looked at him like that. Like he was a weak and broken toy. Or worse yet, an ignorant fourteen year-old.

Warm breath tickled Bart's skin as Jaime sighed against him. "It's late. You should try to get some rest."

Bart's heart gave a nervous flutter. Was Jaime offering to let him—?

"You can take the bed. I'll, uh, sleep on the couch."

"Could you… stay with me?" he asked instead.

Jaime gave Bart's hand a squeeze, his tanned skin a stark contrast against Bart's own alabaster complexion. "Of course," the Hispanic answered, leading him to the bed.

The covers were peeled away as their bodies eased onto the mattress. Bart curled against Jaime's lean form, limbs entangling as their heads hit the pillows. His eyes fluttered shut, knowing it was only a matter of time before sleep claimed him. But then they flitted open again, as it dawned on him that this might be one of their last nights together. He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed at Jaime's face, drinking in every detail. Thick lashes cast shadows across his chiseled face, and his lips were drawn in a peaceful smile. "Gorgeous" was the only word Bart could find to describe his angelic features.

Swallowing hard, his throat dry and rough, Bart slipped a hand under Jaime's shirt. His thin fingers ghosted over Jaime's smooth skin, skimming over the contours of his abs. Jaime shivered beneath his touch and rolled over. "Bart," he murmured. "You should get some…" his voice faltered as Bart's hands explored further.

In the future, relationships didn't come with the rules and responsibilities that ones in the past did. There wasn't a certain type of love that was or wasn't acceptable, nor was there a specific age range. Love was so rare, that if you were lucky enough to find it, you made the most of it, because chances were that it wouldn't be long until you or your partner was kissed by death's unyielding lips.

Maybe that's why Bart saw nothing wrong with being with Jaime, despite their three year age difference. He'd fought so hard to have Jaime, to keep him alive even with the nasty premonition hanging over Blue Beetle's head.

"I love you."

Bart wasn't sure who had spoken. He didn't remember saying anything, but the words unspoken on his lips felt so natural, that he might as well have.

Jaime pressed his parted lips to Bart's, his hands splaying over the auburn-haired boy's lithe body as he did so. Sounds of kissing, of sucking and biting and sighing, permeated the otherwise silent room.

Bart arched his neck as Jaime's soft, kiss-swollen lips journeyed down his pale column of neck, teeth lightly grazing the skin. Bart's hands sifted through Jaime's ebony locks, before dropping to land on Jaime's tee. He tugged at the fabric until Jaime sat up to remove his shirt. After a painstakingly slow pause, Jaime straddled Bart's lap and moved to his mouth once more.

The kiss was slow, as if Jaime was savoring every second, but Bart suspected the tortuously languid movements were really done just to tease him. He whined into Jaime's mouth, and felt Jaime tremble slightly from suppressed laughter. Pale fingers danced across sharp shoulder blades as their gentle caressing of lips intensified. Jaime's tongue slipped into Bart's mouth, fondling his own.

The moment was perfect, fueled by a feeling of pure ecstasy that Bart couldn't quite place. A moment later, however, he was forced to wonder how the universe could be so cruel; to offer him a taste of what he'd wanted, and then to pry it away from his desperate grasp.

Jaime bit down on his lower lip, eliciting a quiet moan, but he pulled away as a beeping rang out, the sound rebounding between the partitions of the room. Jaime extricated himself from the tangle of blankets, and scrambled to inspect his phone.

"Dios mio," he grumbled, "I'm an idiot."

Bart rushed to assure him that he wasn't, all the while staring at the scarab latched onto his boyfriend's spine.

"I was supposed to report back to the Team after I found you. They've been looking for you for hours."

"They obviously didn't look very hard," he scoffed.

Jaime drew his dark eyebrows, part stern, part amused. "They really were worried about you, cariño. And you might not realize it, but they do care."

Sensing the direction their conversation was headed, Bart quickly injected a warning note in his tone. "Don't."

"Look, I don't have all the details, and I'm not sure how much you already heard, but the natural order is hanging in the balance. By coming here you messed with time and that not only crashed the timestream, but caused some sort of rift. Threads of time unraveling, or something like League and some of the technicians at Star found a way to repair and modify your time machine. It's been stored and examined at the Watchtower since you arrived in the past, and… they fixed it Bart. You can go home."

A traitorous tear slipped unbidden from Bart's eyes."I can't go back Jaime. You don't know what it was like…"

"We've changed the time stream. It won't be like that anymore. You won't have to live in a world ruled by the Reach."

_But I'd have to live without you._

"Don't look at me like that. You know it's hard for me. I don't want to lose you. But you don't belong in this era."

_But I belong with you. _

Jaime gazed into Bart's eyes, tears pooling at the corners.

And then Bart heard himself speaking. He hated himself for saying it. For being so selfish. So selfish to even think such a thing.

"You could come with me."

"I—w-what?"

"Come to the future with me Jaime. We'd be together, we'd have a future together it'dbetotallycrash."

Color drained from Jaime's face. Bart could see him silently weighing the pros and cons; evidently torn with himself. Finally, he shook his head. Bart's heart was aching. He'd always thought that 'brokenhearted' was just an expression, but his heart was literally aching.

"Mi amor, _please. _I-" Jaime stopped to take in Bart's heartbroken expression. "I have family Bart. And friends… Tye, and Paco, and Brenda. And I have responsibilities as a hero. I can't just give all that up. I want to. But I can't."

Bart keeled forward as a sob wracked his body. His throat was constricting.

"Bart please," Jaime said beseechingly.

Tears trickled down his cheeks and rolled off the end of his chin. Jaime quickly brushed away the tear trails, and cupped either side of Bart's face. With each touch of Jaime's fingers, Bart's skin came alive, crackling like tinder under a lit match. Burning away sorrow. Burning away loss.

"Te amo. But I think we both knew that this couldn't last."

"If you won't come with me then I won't go."

"But you have to… eventually. And you can't keep putting it off forever."

Bart's face contorted into a painful expression. He wrenched Jaime off of him like one would a band-aid: swiftly as to avoid prolonging the pain.

"You're cheating yourself!" Jaime cursed at him as the speedster, unable to hear anymore, did what he knew best: he ran.

He ran away from the house in El Paso, ran from his friend and lover. He didn't know where he was running to, only where he was running from. And the more distance he put between himself and Jaime, the better.

This was bliss; the pounding in his ears, the winded feeling in his lungs, the euphoric rush of adrenaline and endorphins charging through him like bursts of electricity.

Bart wove his way gracefully between streetlamps and parked cars and other fixtures that had become little more than a blur as he continued on. He gazed upwards towards the heavens, where only a sprinkling of stars braved the all-encompassing night sky.

He would never tire of looking at the sky. In the future, the smog and clouds were ever present, constantly raining bitter sediment on the dilapidated ruins below. They couldn't possibly expect him to return to the life he had only just escaped from. The Team and the League had believed his claim of being a mere 'tourist' from the future, but really, he was the future's last hope.

When Bart finally slows down, he realizes that his feet had carried him to a spot in the El Paso desert where he'd been many times before. It was the place that most reminded him of Jaime.

After shuffling awkwardly, he settled onto the ground and fiddled with a mottled rock about half the size of his fist, silently relaying the conversation he and Blue Beetle had shared almost a year ago. "One thing I learned in the future, amigo, is that it's easier to destroy, than to create!"

_What am I doing? _he wondered exasperatedly. He'd come here to get away from Jaime. Yet his mind didn't seem capable of running very far before being drawn back to him.

Bart wasn't sure how long he sat like that, staring at some vantage point in the distance. But when he finally heard movement from behind him, the sun and moon were vying for control of the sky, and a steady glow was growing higher in the horizon.

"Hey."

"Hey," Bart responded, his voice devoid of emotion.

An uncertain pause elongated, before Jaime folded himself into a sitting position beside Bart.

"Do you remember the first time we—"

"—Yes."

"And we almost got captured."

"Uh huh."

"But we didn't. Well, not 'til later, anyways. Because you saved me. You're always there for me Bart." Jaime reached out to run his hand along Bart's arm.

"Jaime, I just want to be alone." Bart mumbled, bristling at his touch.

Jaime nodded. "That's why I didn't come after you right away. But Scarab said he could locate you and I figured that…" he paused to trace Bart's face; his nose, cheeks, lips, "sometimes people run to see if you'll come after them."

Bart shifted into Jaime's lap, burying his face in his chest. They stayed like that for a long time, the speedster ensconced in his arms as the early morning light bathed the couple in an ethereal rosy-hued glow.

Bart Allen held onto the next few days as tightly as possible, but they slipped from his hands like water, gone all too soon. After voicing goodbyes to the Garricks, the Team, his grandparents, and even Nathaniel, he stood next to the time machine, a whirring mass of highly advanced Reach and zeta-beam technology.

Finally, there was only one person left to say goodbye to. Bart opened his mouth to speak, because he knew that, in the end, there were only three words he wanted to say to Jaime. But whether the words were, "I love you", or "I hate you", he wasn't sure. There was a part of him, he feared, that would always hate Jaime for loving him so much, and for giving him something to lose.

"So," Jaime offered lamely, "I guess this is good-bye."

"No," Bart said. "It's more of a 'see-you-later'."

Jaime closed what little gap there was between them, breathing in Bart's scent. "Te quiero, Bart."

"Yeah. Taquito, Jaime."

They leaned in for a final kiss, and for once, Bart was happy to take things slow, to enjoy every millisecond they had. Jaime's sensuous lips pressed firmly against his own, but it was a bitter-sweet kiss stained with tears and loss.

But maybe it really was for the best. The past Bart had journeyed to had been full of light and love and people who had taught him how to live again. Maybe it was his turn to help heal the people in the future. Now that everything had been rewritten, he truly didn't know what awaited him.

What he did know, was that eventually you have to stop running.

* * *

_You're stuck on the ground, _  
_ Got lost, can't be found._  
_ Just remember that you're still alive._


End file.
